


Ill Willpower

by Vesker



Category: South Park
Genre: Guilty Masturbation Fic, M/M, Student - Teacher AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesker/pseuds/Vesker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short AU Oneshot | Bradley teaches Religious Studies in high school. Butters is his favourite student. He's a little too fond of that boy. And kind of sexually frustrated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ill Willpower

Bradley finished marking the mock exam in front of him, drew  a little smiley face under the score in his favourite orange pen (you weren't allowed to use red any more, students found it demoralising, but he'd always found green too cold, so had got himself a cheery orange biro instead), and signed his name. His students were doing well this semester. They were a good bunch of kids and he was proud of them. Maths was a difficult subject, if you weren't naturally good with numbers, it became difficult rather quickly. But his class seemed to be a good team of triers and he was pleased that they were making such steady progress. Hopefully they would be proud of themselves too.

He looked across the room at the clock that sat on the far wall. It was getting late, almost 7pm. There wouldn't be any staff left apart from the custodial lot, finishing off the day's cleaning. He should have been home hours ago, but he'd promised his students that he'd have these ready to hand back tomorrow and it was better to mark them at school. He kept a professional foresight then. Home meant television and a glass of wine and other various distractions. He'd never get them all done. Or he'd be up until 3am trying to finish them. And he owed it to these kids to give them his best. That's what being a teacher was all about.

There were only a few tests left to mark anyway. And it wasn't as if he had someone waiting to see him at home. Apart from a cat, who probably wasn't that bothered if he was there or not. So he didn't particularly mind staying behind at the school. In a weird way, it was a little less lonely than going home. An empty house, even with a cat, could get you down. This classroom had the memory and energy of his students in it. It just felt a little less alone.

Sighing quietly, he put the completed paper aside and picked up the next one, directing his attention to the name printed neatly at the top. Leopold Stotch. A fond smile instantly crossed his face. Butters, as he was known to his friends and... Most of the other students and staff, was his most favourite student. You weren't supposed to pick favourites, not really, but every teacher did. It was a natural human condition. And Butters was most definitely his. The boy was the sweetest, kindest student he'd ever had the pleasure of teaching. He was always prepared to help out; hand out text books, fetch equipment, offer answers to questions. Butters was a complete delight.

Bradley sat back in his chair, test paper in his hand. Butters reminded him a little of himself when he had been in school. But Leopold didn't have the crippling social anxiety that had plagued his own school days. He had always been terribly nervous, meek and self-depreciating. Advancements in that sort of thing was a lot better these days, mental health was treated with a lot less stigma. Kids could get help and therapy and all sorts. He was on tablets himself, anti-anxiety, enough so that he was able to keep calm and not panic about things.

He had been on anti-depressants for a fair few years too, but had managed to have sorted himself out enough that the doctors had let him drop them. He'd gone through a lot of trouble as a kid handling his sexuality. It hadn't been as socially acceptable back then to be gay as it was these days. It had reached the point of finding himself hanging off the side of a bridge, being prepared to jump. He hadn't, obviously, but he had come scarily close. And he was happy that students these days were being encouraged and supported to explore and accept their sexual identities. They had a good share of LGBT students in the school, it was so wonderful to see. If only it had been like that when he was in school.

Butters _was_ one if the LGBT students, if memory served. The boy had never actually turned up to one of the society meetings yet - which he had set up and ran himself, every Tuesday and Thursday lunchtime - but he had heard it a few times from some of the frequently returning members. Not that they were a group for gossip, and they never discussed such business outside of the meetings, but word gets around. He wasn't annoyed or upset that Butters never came, he would never be so petty. Some people decided not to come because they were confident enough in their sexuality to not need the support. Some people decided not to come because they weren't Out and didn't want people to know, even in the close confidence of the group.

And he respected each and every decision.

Still, he hoped that Butters was happy. The lad didn't have a partner, as far as he knew... Though it wasn't that easy to find one. He should know, he'd been single for... Well. Long enough to properly crave a relationship again. It was becoming a problem, he was too easily distracted. All these young, hormonal men about the place... Bradley flushed, guiltily biting his lip. How immoral, he was a teacher, for goodness' sake. And yet at the mere thought, the bare shadows of the idea of physical intimacy, he felt that tension coil in the pit of his stomach, his legs tensing and pressing together.

Shit. He was supposed to be marking papers, not wallowing in self-pity and sexual frustration. He refocused on the exam in front of him and read that name again. A terrible idea; the image of Butters' face came to mind, soft cheeks pink with an aroused flush, eyes half-glazed with want, mouth subtly parted in nervous anticipation. Bradley sat up in his desk chair, idly tossing the paper aside. No, no, no, this was not allowed. Fantasising at work was bad enough, but about a specific student? That was positively despicable.

And yet, the image wouldn’t leave him.

He swallowed, mouth dry. He was getting carried away. The more he tried to think about something else, the more intrusive the other thoughts became. Butters was so quiet, so soft-spoken… Imagine what it would be like to hear him _groan_. He seemed the type that would make little huffs and pants of noise; small whimpers and quiet gasps, each one more of an embarrassment to him than the last but being unable to stop as he lost himself to pleasure. Bradly sighed again, shakily, the nagging throb in his groin becoming more prominent by the second. Against all better judgement, he slowly slid a hand between his legs and felt himself through his pants, ashamed at how hard he’d gotten.

“This is total and utter ethical misconduct,” he whispered to himself, wincing at the strained tension in his voice. After a moment’s longer hesitation, he unfastened his trousers and dipped a hand into his underwear, giving in to a shudder that wound its way up his spine. He curled cool fingers around his shaft, pressing a thumb to the tip.

All far too easily, Leopold came to mind once more. Naked, laid out delicately over soft white sheets, slender fingers gripping the fabric as his body arched and writhed, head tilted back in ecstasy. Chest rolling in heavy, ragged gasps of breath, not able to speak past whimpers and mewls of need. Clean, fresh beads of sweat rolling down a slender neck, hips pressed high, seeking contact. Being above the boy, hands able to roam across smooth, warm flesh, pressing kisses to his cheeks and neck and chest and navel.

The heady scent of pheromone infused moisture, the pleasurable touch of two bodies dripping with heat. Pressing tongue to skin, the pleasant taste of sweet salt, the boy’s intrinsic essence. Hearing him fall under manipulations, whine and plead and desperately seek release. Hands on thighs, lifting legs, squeezing flesh. Sliding into him, pushing deep and grinding in, rocking and thrusting and bumping and banging. Being pulled down, clawed at. Groans of pleasure, requests for more; harder, faster, deeper--!

Bradley hunched over as he came, panting heavily, head inches from the wooden surface of his desk. He stared at the woodgrain, waiting for it to swim back into focus before attempting to sit up. He pulled his hand free of his underwear, slick with ejaculate, and pulled a face, half-mortified at his own weak will. That was _bad_. Worse than that, it was downright obscene. He had done what no teacher should ever do. Ever even _think_ of doing. He leant back in his chair, pants still hanging open, cum languidly drying on his fingers. He didn’t stir for a while, allowing his body to calm and compose itself, letting his heartbeat return to normal, his breathing to slow. All the while silently thinking, running in mental circles of guilt and shame.

It wasn’t until a door banged shut somewhere down the corridor outside that he jerked upright, startled. He looked across the room at the clock once more. Quarter to eight. They would be doing the very final checks and locking the buildings up. Hopefully, he wasn’t shut in already. Sighing, he did himself up – grimacing at the awful dampness of his underwear – and set to gathering the remaining papers up. He would _have_ to finish them at home now. His hand hovered over Butters’ paper, a fresh wave of trepidation washing over him.

He didn’t know how he was going to be able to face the boy in class tomorrow. Another door closed in the hallway, closer this time. It spurred him into action once more. Bradley cleared up the rest of the papers, tucked them in his bag and with a careful placement of a jacket over his arm, shielded his patchy trousers from view and headed for the exit. He gave the janitor a nod of acknowledgement and a brief farewell in passing, just wanting to get out of the building and get home as soon as possible.

It was going to be a terribly long day tomorrow.


End file.
